


Paleblood Bastard

by TrashTierHusbando



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-06 21:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashTierHusbando/pseuds/TrashTierHusbando
Summary: Years ago, Jon Snow fell sick with a vile illness. He was saved when a traveler came, speaking of a far off city where anything could be cured, Yharnam, and offered to take the boy there for a price. Now the boy has returned to his homeland. The last of the Workshop, he seeks to ensure that the Hunter arts do not die with him, but he brings more than simple tricks with him.





	1. Prologue

Paleblood Bastard

It started with a simple sickness. A child with the pox, cursed by the same woman that prayed over him. I remember Lady Stark over my bed, swearing to figments to treat me as her own, weeping into her clenched fists. As if the Seven could save me, could dare challenge the will of the Hunt. I remember a man walking through the door, saying he could save me, but he would have to take me away. I wonder if Lady Stark would have kept her promise.

How long has it been? How long since this fight began? I had defied Gehrman, sought to free him from this dream. He took my life a dozen times, yet I refused to yield. The first time I had died in a single strike. His scythe slicing through me just as it did the flowers around me. Yet he fell to me, then it came. The Moon Presence was strong, every second it tried to flay my mind, almost binding me with my first death, just as it did the old man. But I was more than he was, so I rose and fought. Until the Nightmare was slain. I was cold, then mother picked me up.

The North

I strolled through the woods, the trees bare of leaves, my feet striding across the snow, leaving no tracks, my cloak fluttering in the faint breeze, and my trusted cane at my side. The moon hung high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, revealing countless stars. The world was silent, no wolves howled, for they were hiding in their dens, and no birds flew. The chill in the air didn't reach me.

This land…I never realized how quiet it was, how simple. I could feel nothing hovering above, seeking to devour my mind. I could see nothing in the shadows, or in the corner of my eye. This land was exactly what it appeared to be. How quaint. Yet looking at the stars, I could feel Eyes, watching me, waiting for a single slip, so they could slip through.

Soon I found a road and began to follow it, the moon racing across the sky as I walked. A scream rang through the still night, coming from the rode in front of me, I simply continued my stroll and it didn't take long for me to come across a pitiful sight. Four men stood over a screaming woman, each covered in furs. She lay on the ground, surrounded by three bodies, much better dressed, though not finely, their red ichor staining the snow a lovely shade. A man was hovering above her, fiddling with his pants.

"Excuse me ma'am, do you require some aid?" I asked, addressing her and making my presence known to the wildlings. They turned to look at me, and began talking, not that I paid attention to what they were threatening. Instead I focused on the woman, her tear-filled eyes attempting to lock onto mine, peering into my black glasses. No doubt I made a frightening sight, my face covered in a cloth mask, my glasses covering my eyes, barely an inch of skin was showing. "Please…" She whimpered out.

I clicked my cane, flicking my wrist, and the snow was painted red, the night returning to silence. At that, I simply continued my path down the road to Winterfell. It was time to see my family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello and welcome all! This idea came as a result of my love for Bloodborne and Game of Thrones (excluding s7-8, which I'm still angry about) and I was saddened to see how few crossovers existed between the two. I would also like to note that it is unlikely I will be updating this on a regular schedule, as it is only one of several things I am writing, and my original pieces take precedence. This also happens to be my first attempt at fanfiction.
> 
> Jon will be largely OOC as he was taken from Winterfell at a fairly young age and has been effectively raised in the Hunters Dream


	2. A Dull Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon speaks with his mother, and finds he isn't the only one headed to Winterfell.

Paleblood Bastard

The Hunters Dream

"How was your rest dear hunter?" The Doll asked, her gentle tone soothing me, and my tendrils reached out for her. She sat where Gehrman once sat, beneath the great tree where I ascended, a place that had become a favorite of mine. She let out a simple giggle, before wrapping my body in her arms, covering me in her cloak. I had grown, but not by much. I was still small enough to be carried by her, not that I had an issue with that. I had no mouth to respond to her, my body wasn't so crude as to need one. I simply spoke to her mind, and it was a testament to her strength, or my restraint, that she felt no ill effects.

"The Waking World is…odd. Simple." I thought to her, wrapping my slug like body around her shoulders, resting my head next to hers.

"Are you disappointed dear hunter?" She asked, her voice little more than a whisper. Was I? I had walked for three days on that road and found little more than four pathetic men. While in the dream, in Yharnam, I couldn't walk ten feet without fighting for my life.

I realized I was. "A hunter must hunt." I thought, my voice slithering into her mind. At that her smile changed, sadness creeping into it.

"Ah… a favored saying of miss Eileen is it not?" She asked, though she already knew the answer. While Gehrman would forget our faces, she would remember every hunter, would come to love them all, especially one that had lived as long as that crow. "There is truth to it. A hunter is not meant for idleness. Even one as great as you, dear hunter." She said.

I preened at her praise, the sky lighting in a violet aurora, the flowers all blooming, causing her sadness to fade.

"You must be patient. I am sure the waking world will not be so dull forever." She said, stroking across my tendrils, attempting to sooth me further. She soon began to hum, a quiet lullaby filling the grove.

I suppose she was right. With that, I dozed off, lulled to sleep and returned to the Waking world, away from the arms of my mother.

The Waking World

I woke underneath a great tree, my eyes slowly opening. The snow had lessened around me, no longer cold enough to sustain it. I remember the north, it will return soon enough. I had not bothered to disrobe, still wearing my long coat and hat, as well as my mask, my cane still in my hand and the Evelyn at my waist, hidden away from wandering eyes. The sun was shining through the trees, some bare and others evergreen. I was still in sight of the road, and quickly stood and began following it, headed further north.

All along the road, I found evidence of a massive party moving along. Tracks of all sorts, from men and dogs, to horses and wheels. Burnt out firepits and dropped trinkets, buried in the mud and snow. I quickly followed them all, dashing through the trees. They couldn't be more than a few days old, and I was eager to meet such a large group of people, no matter the circumstances.

I moved like a breeze, crossing what would have taken a normal man a day in an hour, leaving no tracks behind, dancing over the road. It took me three hours to find the party, and it was as massive as I predicted. I slowed the moment I noticed them, still well out of eyesight for any of their guards.

I noticed the banners first, a great stag on a field of yellow, painted over nearly every surface. It had been a decade since I had been in this land, but I remembered the symbol of house Baratheon.

My blood calmed, a pang of disappointment running through me that I quickly quashed at seeing the friendly group. It seemed the king was travelling, which would explain the size of the band, almost a thousand people following him, from merchants to nobles to whores, and of course more than a handful of men in armor that I nearly scoffed at, before reminding myself that this land lacked beasts.

I calmly approached the outskirts of the camp, using my cane for its original purpose. Thankfully the road here was less mud and more dirt and snow. Of course, I was stopped by the first soldier I came across, noticing my strange garb, not that I tried to obscure my presence, or make it known.

"Stop!" He said, walking up to me. He was a rather pathetic man all things considered, on the older side with a great deal of fat on his face, sweating despite the chill in the air. He stood slightly taller than me, not that I was a tall man by any means, and was wrapped in Baratheon colors.

"Who're you?" He asked, a slight slur in his voice and the smell of wine on his breath. I could see as he opened his mouth that he was missing several teeth.

"A simple traveler." I responded, leaning further on my cane.

"Tha' don't mean nuthin. Why you wearing that?" He spat back at me, waving his fist and taking another step forward in an attempt to be threatening.

"I was headed north and decided it would be safer to travel with such a large party, safer from the wildlings. As for my dress, I bought them from some Summer islander." I said, ensuring I spoke with a slight accent.

He grumbled for a moment, looking me up and down, before deciding I wasn't worth his time, and waving me on. I walked pass, and began to wander through the camp, catching more than a few eyes as I went. To call it a proper camp was a bit wrong. This was clearly not a military camp, this was a group of random wanderers that had decided to follow the king, and more importantly his many armed guards, as the went north, looking for a little coin. There were more than a handful of makeshift brothels set up in tents, as well as a few bars, but for the most part they seemed to be packing up, ready to move again as it was nearing mid-day. At this rate it would take them a few weeks to reach Winterfell, but I wasn't complaining. So, I began to follow.

That Night

We walked for several hours, stopping shortly before the sun began to set. The people scrambled to set up the tents that they had dismantled only hours earlier. Soon the makeshift city was standing again, and it set off to entertain myself as the sun vanished over the horizon.

I heard screaming and cheering coming from near one of the larger tents and set off it investigate. I found a decent crowd of people, all standing in a circle and cheering. Making my way towards the center, having to nudge a few people out of the way, saw what was so entertaining. It was a fighting pit. Well, less a pit and more of a ring.

In the center of the ring were two rather large men, clearly intoxicated, throwing fists at one another. They were sloppy, but soon enough the larger of the two managed to knock his opponent out, seeming to break his nose in the process. The man quickly woke up and was carried from the ring by a few of his friends while the winner was cheering, playing up to the crowd.

Deciding to have a little fun, I planted my cane deep into the ground, just inside the circle, and stepped inside. I raised my fists, and my opponent laughed for a moment, before throwing a weak hook towards me. I beat six people before I decided I was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey. I decided to get a bit more of this done today. Next chapter will most likely be Jon exploring the camp a little more, as well as his first reactions to the royal family. After that will be his arrival at Winterfell and his reunion with the Starks.
> 
> I should point out that while Jon is capable of using, and is skilled with, all of the Hunter Weapons, his main go to is his Threaded Cane. He will also largely avoid using his guns for a while.
> 
> This is the Hunter from the Childhood's Beginning ending, but he limits himself in the Waking World to what he was capable of when human, as Jon is not skilled in controlling his powers as a Great One just yet. Basically for now, he is a Great One in the Dream, but in the Waking World he is human.


	3. A False Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King goes Hunting.

Paleblood Bastard

The king was going hunting. He was hunting! There was a hunt! I was overjoyed, a smile stretching across my face to the point my flesh nearly began to tear, my jaw almost dislocating, popping as I began to laugh. At the very prospect I became aware of my blood rushing through my veins, sloshing against the tubes.

I had only heard the mutterings of it spoken throughout the camp as it woke in the morning, yet as I moved closer to the front of the chain the whispers were confirmed. Several men, seemed to be gearing up, preparing their horses, leading them with not only weapons, but food and wine. At seeing this, a clear preparation for celebration, my blood began to calm, disappointment stilling the ichor every so slightly. This would be no challenge, no battle for life and death. This was a loud, crude affair. Yet a hunt was a hunt, and I would be hunting. So I made my way towards the guards, my cane strapped to my side like a blade, the bowblade on my back, cloth mask lowered.

Walking towards them, I managed to get a glimpse of the king, striding through the camp. At least I assume he was the king, based on the golden crown fashioned to look like a stag’s antlers, and the old knight in a white cloak following behind him. He was massive, both a head taller than me, as thrice as wide. He stood talking to a small boy, with golden hair and an arrogant stride. They seemed by be arguing, before the boy walked away in a huff, annoyance on his face and violence in his eyes.

As before, my garb drew eyes to me, and quickly a pair of guards walked up to me, hands on the pommels of their blades. While the previous guard to stop me was pathetic, these two seemed far more competent, well-muscled and in the prime of their youth.

“Halt!” They demanded, voice stern, stepping in front of me, blocking my view of the king. They spoke well, clearly noble, or professional. “Who approaches the King’s company?” One asked.

“A Hunter!” I replied, raising my voice so others could hear me, standing tall. “And I was informed there would be a hunt.” I said, a cheerful smile growing on my face. They shot glances at each other for moment, fidgeting slightly before responding.

“And you think you can just walk up and join the King?” One said with a slight sneer, his nose wrinkling and lips quirking. His partner on the other hand had a bewildered, and slightly amused smirk on his face.

“I would be a rather poor hunter if I wasn’t allowed to hunt. Would I not?” I said, nodding my head in a slight bow. They looked annoyed at not only my quip, but my persistence as I refused to take their hint. They were about to speak, when a booming voice broke through the air.

“What’s taking ya shits so long!” the thundering voice shouted. The two guards turned on their heels, quickly bowing one they saw who it was, allowing me to see as well. It was the King, standing a few feet behind them, the knight looking rather exasperated behind him. He was rather more imposing up close, allowing me to see just how massive he was, looking almost like a bear. His massive beard covered most of his face, sweat dripping from his brow, the stench of wine flooding from his breath.

“Apologies your Grace! This man-“ The guard stammered for a moment before being interrupted.

“I heard what he said. If the bastard wants to hunt then let em.” The King said with a scoff.

“Thank you, your grace.” I said, taking an exaggerated bow, before rising and looking him in the eye with a smirk. In response he let out a huff.

“Strange bow. You any good with it?” He asked, a slight mocking tone, his chest shifting as he spoke.

“It belonged to a good friend of mine. As for whether or not I’m good with it, would you like a demonstration?” I asked, sincerity in my voice as I unslung the bow, its edge glinting in the sunlight, a steel arrow held limp between the fingers of my other hand, arms spread wide.

As I drew my weapon, the two guards placed themselves between me and the King, hands on their blades. The elder knight walking in front as well, his body relaxed yet I could see steel in his eyes, watching my every move.

Yet all the king did was let out a bellowing laugh, his gut quaking and his shoulders shaking, throwing his head back. The two guards seemed to relax at that, yet the knight stayed as he was. At the laugh, the eyes of everyone in the clearing were drawn to us, taking note of me, and upon noticing my drawn weapon, several knights started to make their way over, including another in a white cloak, with golden armor and hair.

“You better prove it boy. You’ll be hunting with me, and if you shoot me I the ass I’ll put your head on a spike.” The King said with a chuckle.

“Of course, though I’m sure it will be a challenge to miss such a target.” I said. At those words, the clearing went silent, like everyone was holding their breath. The King stared me down, glaring at me as I met his eyes, the smirk not falling from my lips. After a beat, the King burst into laughter again, shaking like an earthquake, and it seemed that the world let out a sigh.

The two guards began chuckling nervously, and in a moment the Kings laugh stopped, and he glared them down. “Oh it’s funny is it? You think your king is fat?” He shot at them venom in his voice, tension filling the air once more, as quickly as it vanished, yet the smirk remained on my face. They stood there, shifting on the balls of their feet, their armor clanking slightly and sweat dripping from their brows. Then the King gasped out a laugh, and I quickly joined in with a light chuckle.

“It’s been too long since someone’s talked to me like that! Come on, let’s go kill something!” He said, shouting with joy in his voice, smacking me on the shoulder with his meaty hands, enough force to send a normal to his knees, sweat on his palm. At that order, he turned and began to walk away, grabbing a crossbow from a nearby guard and a wineskin from another before heading into the trees, the rest of the party following him, nearly a hundred people wading into the forest.

We were not quiet as we walked, every second someone snapped a twig and there was always some murmuring going on. We walked for nearly an hour, sunbeams cutting through the leaves as intangible pillars, but soon enough the party grew quiet, the king demanding silence as we found some tracks.

We began to follow them, and soon we found their source. We stood at the top of a hill, partially hidden behind a large oak, a clearing below us. Snow littered the ground in patches, existing wherever the sun couldn’t touch, surrounding the bases of the trees like skirts. In the clearing, a hundred feet away was a herd of deer, led by a massive stag with nearly ten spears on its antlers.

The King lumbered up to the edge of the cliff with surprising grace, leveling his crossbow at the beast. He pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew through the air, yet the creature moved at the last second, and it struck the antlers, snapping against them. Fast as lightning, the stag shifted and prepared to bolt. The blood began roaring through my veins, and time slowed. I saw its muscles contracting as I twisted, attempting to bolt. The other deer were already fleeing, but I wasn’t concerned with them. I raised the bowblade, an arrow already knocked. The beast took a single bound, and I drew the string back to my cheek. It took one more bound, already about to disappear into the bush, its eye glinting in the light, and I loosed. The steel shaft crossed the distance in a moment, before burying itself clean through the eye of the stag. It was mid stride, hanging in the air for a moment. It tumbled, and a moment later its corpse struck the ground, dead in a single breath.

It was quiet for a moment, the clearing now empty, a growing crimson pool growing around the carcass, feeding the soil. Then a laugh broke silence, and I looked away from my prey, my blood settled. The King was striding over to me, his mouth open in a grin, and I lowered my bow at his approach. Behind him was the old knight, looking rather impressed, a faint smile on his lips, and the golden knight, taking far more effort to hide his own surprise.

As they approached, I loosed my tongue. “I managed to miss your ass, your grace.” I said with a smile in my voice. At that he bellowed another laugh, his empty crossbow limp in his arms.

“Aye. Quite a feat that!” He said smiling, taking another swig from his skin. “Let’s go see your kill.” He said, rapping me on the shoulder once more, before heading down the hill towards the corpse.

After a beat, I began to follow him, the golden knight falling into step with me. “Quite a lucky shot boy.” He said, condescension leaking into his voice.

“Dear sir, hasn’t anyone told you luck is a warrior’s greatest tool?” I shot back.

“Really? And I had thought it was the sword.” He said, smirking at me.

“A common mistake I assure you.” I said, the smirk growing on my face, a small laugh slipping from my lips at my good mood.

We soon stood over the buck and I saw that my arrow had slightly missed its mark. Instead of punching clean through the eye it clipped the top of the socket, no doubt cracking the skull. I was getting sloppy. Yet as I berated myself the king praised me.

“Hell of a shot lad! It’s been years since I’ve seen such a clean kill!” He said, looking me in the eye. The old knight, who was kneeling at the head of the animal, inspecting the wound decided to chime it.

“It is a fantastic shot your grace. You should be proud Ser…” He said, realizing he had not caught my name.

I was about to answer him, when my blood began to churn. My senses heightened, a chill on the back of my neck, and I could feel eyes watching me. I reached for my cane, unslinging it from my side, before placing the tip of the ground, not looking away from the knight, appearing casual as I leaned on it.

“Oh… I apologize, I have yet to introduce myself. How rude of me.” I said, apology in my voice. I felt the eyes shifting, preparing. I heard muscles clenching, before they extended with a burst.

From a small ledge above us, hidden in the bushes, a large cat pounced, easily the size of a man, claws extended and fangs glinting in the light, ready to tear into the elderly knight while his back was turned. My cane snapped, the smooth steel separating into a jagged whip. Lashing out with my wrist, the steel flew through the air, over the head of the knight, before finding purchase in the beasts throat. The steel bit, flesh ripping with the serrated metal, splattering the trees with blood, sound of it all soothing me. The beast fell at the knights feet, blood splattering slightly. The metal of my cane snapped back, and I slammed the tip to the earth, returning the cane to its normal form.

The three stood there for a moment, slightly stained with blood at the violence that had happened in nothing more than a heartbeat.

“My name is Jon Snow, leader of the Hunter’s Workshop. It is a pleasure to meet you dear Ser Barristan.” I said with a smile, giving a nod and a slight bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi. Next chapter will be a bit more interaction with the King and Barristan, then Winterfell. I wanted to point out that Jon is largely unfamiliar with what is going on in Westeros and who people are. He knows who Robert is, and managed to figure out who Barristan is, but he couldn’t name most of the houses or tell you who Jamie is, as he never really learned that before heading to Yharnam, so most of his knowledge comes from stories Old Nan or someone else would tell, and he has no knowledge of current events.  
I am also writing this in class so I will most likely come back later and clear up any typos.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hello and welcome all! This idea came as a result of my love for Bloodborne and Game of Thrones (excluding s7-8, which I'm still angry about) and I was saddened to see how few crossovers existed between the two. I would also like to note that it is unlikely I will be updating this on a regular schedule, as it is only one of several things I am writing, and my original pieces take precedence. This also happens to be my first attempt at fanfiction.
> 
> Jon will be largely OOC as he was taken from Winterfell at a fairly young age and has been effectively raised in the Hunters Dream


End file.
